The Meek
by Rainy Daze Writer
Summary: A one-shot based on the idea that winning a battle is not always a good thing. Challenge courtesy of jayfeather12345. BreezeClan. The passive Clan. They hunt and run and do little else. But Foxtail's curiosity leads her to poke into their history, and she learns the truth of why the runners never win.


**The Meek**

* * *

Characters:

Foxtail – slender, pretty russet she-cat with white paws and muzzle and yellow eyes

Froststripe - white she-cat with faded ginger paws, tail-tip, and muzzle, and amber eyes

Yewberry – russet tom with yellow eyes

Hartfoot – swift, agile brown she-cat with hazel eyes

Staghorn – swift, agile brown tom with hazel eyes

Cougarsnarl – tan tom with large paws and yellow eyes

Viperstrike – fast black and grey tom with blue eyes

* * *

"BreezeClan, retreat!"

Jackalstar's yowl sounded over the battle. Foxtail scored her claws over the muzzle of the red tabby she was grappling one more time before releasing him. With a hiss, he leaped and bounded away, a red blur across the fields.

All of the enemy Clan was falling back into their own territory, bleeding and with clumped pelts. ShadeClan hung back and watched them go. "Good job," Ospreystar meowed to her warriors, and twitched her tail. "Let's go back to camp."

It was their fifth battle against BreezeClan in two moons, and they had won _again_. Foxtail was almost getting tired of it; the swift, lean warriors looked haggard and exhausted. They never won battles, as far as she knew, unless they were fighting over their stolen territory.

"Ospreystar," she mewed, falling in just short of the mottled grey and brown tabby, "why do we even bother fighting BreezeClan? They _always_ lose. Even if we're doing badly, they still run away halfway through the battle."

"Sounds like something the elders might know," Ospreystar suggested with a shrug. "I'm not sure, but I do remember that they lost even when I was an apprentice."

Foxtail frowned, dropping back again, and walked alone until they reached camp – lost in thought.

_I should talk to Froststripe._

Froststripe was one of the elders. She had retired sooner than most warriors due to terrible back pains that left her unable to move most of the time, and she knew almost _all_ of the Clan's stories. Foxtail didn't particularly want to contend with the rest of the elders, but she thought it might be worth it for an explanation about BreezeClan. _It's just going to bug me forever if I don't ask._

"Hey, Foxtail," Thornpelt meowed, sidling up to her with the wary look he always wore when approaching her. "I don't mean to bug you, but Fernfeather says it's okay for us to see Gorsefoot's kit. I thought you might want to know, since you were talking about it earlier." His tone was calm but not pressing, as usual – Foxtail hadn't forgiven him for what he'd done when they were kits, and he knew it.

She was jostled out of her thoughts and, for the moment, didn't have the presence of mind to hiss at him or tell him off for coming near her. "Huh? Oh… okay. Thanks, Thornpelt," she replied dismissively. He blinked, looking blown away, and Foxtail realized vaguely that she'd probably never thanked him for anything before. _I'll figure out some way to make him rue the day he heard it from me later,_ she reflected briefly before continuing on to the elders' den.

Thornpelt was left behind, staring at her with a mystified expression on his face.

"Hello? Froststripe, are you awake?" Foxtail mewed softly, poking her head into the den. Even though it was mid-afternoon, she knew it was perfectly possible that the elders were taking naps.

"_Mrr_?" A white head popped up from one of four curled forms. "Who's that?" A pink circle appeared in the center of the head as the elder yawned. "Hello, Foxtail."

"Bah, you woke me up, you old furball," grumbled another elder, pawing at his muzzle and glaring grouchily at the white she-cat. Froststripe rolled her eyes and blinked at Foxtail, flicking her ears to indicate that she should come further in.

Foxtail winced. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake anyone up."

Froststripe snorted, ginger-tipped tail twitching. "No need to worry. Mousetail has been asleep the entire morning, and it's about time he got up. Everyone else is just dozing. So," she added, shifting slightly to get more comfortable, "what are you here for?"

"Well," Foxtail began, "I just came back from a skirmish with BreezeClan –"

"Oh, let me guess – they ran off halfway through the battle and you were wondering why, right?" Froststripe chuckled. Seeing Foxtail's mystified expression, she shrugged slightly. "Not many cats actually take the time to ask about it, but I had a feeling you would eventually. You're perceptive." She sighed. "Unfortunately, I don't know what to tell you. I don't know the story myself, though I asked the same thing when I was about your age. It happened a long time ago – long before our time – so it's not common knowledge in all the Clans."

_Fox dung._ "Well… do you know how I could find out?" Foxtail meowed. "I really don't want to wonder about it forever."

The she cat stretched out her front paws so that they hung in air over the nest, ginger fur fading to white past her paws. "I suppose you could ask one of the BreezeClan elders, if you go to the next Gathering that is. But I'm sure you'll be going, considering that you just came back from a battle looking practically untouched."

"Okay, I'll ask one of them if I can," Foxtail agreed, standing up to go. "Thanks anyway, Froststripe." She nodded to the rest of the elders as she left their den, but inwardly she was vastly disappointed. _How am I supposed to ask an elder from another Clan why their Clan is so cowardly? I'll be lucky if they don't shred my ears for asking…_ It seemed she would just have to wait until the next Gathering to ask her questions.

She brushed past Thornpelt, who was outside the elders' den with his mouth half-open as if he'd meant to say something to her and went to the nursery to see Gorsefoot's kit.

* * *

"BreezeClan is already here," Badgerstep pointed out to her as the two cats ran alongside the rest of their Clan. Foxtail nodded; she could smell the other Clan's scent more strongly than the rest of the faded, mingled scents of the Gathering Area. "You were going to ask their elders about something, weren't you?" he asked, blinking at her.

"Yep," Foxtail agreed. "A story about BreezeClan's history. Froststripe doesn't know it, so she said I should ask them."

Her brother pricked his ears. "Really? She doesn't know a story? You'll have to share it with her when you get back!"

"I think she wanted me to do that anyway," Foxtail admitted, "even if she didn't outright ask. Anyway, I don't know how long it is, so I want to talk to them as soon as possible. Can you keep Thornpelt out of my fur?" The tabby tom was trying to make amends or something ridiculous like that and kept following her like a moony apprentice, and Foxtail wanted none of it.

Badgerstep narrowed his eyes, one of his rare wanton expressions crossing his face at the thought of hindering Thornpelt. Foxtail twitched her whiskers. Her brother was usually the kindest cat in the Clan, least likely to hamper his Clanmates or have a single cruel thought, but he could always be counted on to keep Hollyclaw or Thornpelt away from her. "Sure thing." He turned slightly and slowed his pace, and Foxtail could swear he had curled his lip into a slight snarl.

_Well, I'm sure he'll keep Thornpelt away from me, at least. Now to find a BreezeClan elder…_ She scanned the clearing, pausing to nod cordially at a BreezeClan tom who she had spoken with once or twice, until her gaze finally settled on a pale lilac she-cat with grey stripes like cobwebs across her thin pelt. _What's her name? Cinder… something? Cinderdusk, is that it?_ She drew closer, hoping someone would call the she-cat by name so she didn't have to embarrass herself.

"Well, hello there," came a meow from behind her. Foxtail jumped, bristling, as a russet tom almost as big as Badgerstep appeared out of nowhere.

"Uh-uh – hello?" she mewed tentatively, brow furrowed as she stared up at the tom and took a few nervous steps back.

He chuckled at her concerned expression. "Nothing to be afraid of. We're at a Gathering, not a battle. I'm Yewberry, and I happened to notice you looked like you were headed for Cinderdawn. I wanted to warn you that she's been in a terrible mood after the recent battle – her son got a nasty cut on his hind leg. She won't be happy to see any ShadeClan cat, unless you were headed that way to prostrate yourself and beg for her to forgive your Clan."

"Oh." Foxtail couldn't help but sag a little at this news.

"What were you looking to ask her? I might be able to help," Yewberry offered gently.

She sighed. "Well, I just recently realized that your Clan doesn't… really…" she faltered, not wanting to come out and say the somewhat harsh truth that preceded her question.

"Go on," he prompted, not unkindly.

"… I realized that BreezeClan doesn'treallywinanyoftheirbattlesandIwaswonderingwhy," she forced out as quickly as possible.

Yewberry burst into hearty laughter that earned him a few puzzled looks from ShadeClan and BreezeClan warriors alike. "Aha, so you've noticed that, have you? I'm surprised we don't get more young cats like you asking that. It's all about winning for you, after all. Tell me something. If you retreat from battle, are you the winner?"

"No," Foxtail replied promptly.

"If the enemy retreats from battle, are you the winner?"

"Yes," she agreed, confused.

"How about this, then," Yewberry added, sitting down and tucking his tail around his paws. "If the enemy retreats from battle, but your Clan is heavily wounded and you've lost several of your warriors, are you the winner?"

"Y-es?" Foxtail answered, hesitating slightly. "I mean… it's not a _good_ win, necessarily, but you still won the battle."

"Mm," Yewberry's eyes looked profoundly disappointed, puzzling Foxtail even further. "And if the conditions are the same as before – your side has many casualties and the living cats are all wounded – but the enemy is in the same condition, only retreating because they lost even more cats and don't have enough warriors to fight?"

She frowned. "That seems like an incredibly specific hypothetical situation."

He shrugged. "It may seem so, but it has happened."

"Wait, really? When? How?" Foxtail's eyes went wide.

Yewberry cleared his throat. "Have you heard of the Great Famine?"

"Of course I have. Everyone has," she pointed out, tipping her head to one side. "At least, I'm pretty sure everyone has."

He nodded. "It happened then. Every battle was that way, as I'm sure you know – violent, with at least one death. No warrior left the battlefield unhurt. Most of the time, a Clan only lost a battle because they literally _did not have the force to go on fighting_. They would retreat only when continuation of the battle spelled certain death for their entire patrol."

Foxtail shuddered. She had heard descriptions of the Great Famine from Froststripe, of course, but that didn't make them any less horrible now. The Clans had been locked in a bloody, long-lasting war when a famine struck the territories. Cats mutinied, fleeing into Twolegplace or becoming rogues. The Warrior Code barely applied, and murder was not only allowed but _encouraged_. Cats kept count of how many lives they had taken. The war had finally ended when StarClan chose four heroes, one from each Clan.

"It was in those days that BreezeClan realized what it truly means to win," Yewberry meowed. "Have you heard of the Blood-Kin?"

The name was vaguely familiar, but Foxtail shook her head thoughtfully. "I don't think so." She paused. "Wait, they were siblings, right? And they… killed a lot of BreezeClan cats?" she turned it into a question hopefully.

"Close, but not quite. They _were_ BreezeClan cats. They were famous for their skills in battle – they worked as a pair. Hartfoot, the sister, was fast and sharp-clawed. She could run circles around her enemy, slashing at them when they were too slow to keep up their defenses until they were covered in shallow cuts. Then the brother, Staghorn, would charge in. He was fast, but his true strength lay in his brutality. His claws would dig deep and gouge into his enemy, killing them in a few swipes. Together, they killed the most cats out of all the Clans." Yewberry's voice was grave, and his eyes dark. Foxtail couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved that BreezeClan didn't think of these cats as role models.

"Our Clan was much fiercer in those days, too," the russet tom added after a moment. "I know LightningClan is supposed to be the 'evil' Clan these days, stealing territory and provoking fights for no reason, but BreezeClan was the same way – in fact, LightningClan was practically timid compared to us."

Foxtail tried to picture a world in which LightningClan didn't start almost every battle, but couldn't. "What happened? Did the Blood-Kin ever stop killing, or did they die, and is that how BreezeClan changed its mind about winning?"

Yewberry chuckled. "Calm down there. I'm getting to it. You see, since LightningClan was the complete opposite of BreezeClan – still is, of course, but the roles have switched – they were practically mortal enemies. BreezeClan would attack LightningClan patrols when they were bored, just for fun. Hartfoot even targeted their medicine cat, just to stop the Clan from healing when they fled from battle. Finally two warriors decided that they'd had enough of it.

"Cougarsnarl and Viperstrike were toms from LightningClan who were very good at sneaking. Cougarsnarl could blend in perfectly with the yellow grass of the fields, while Viperstrike's pelt matched the boulders surrounding BreezeClan's camp and let him melt into the shadows. One day, while BreezeClan was attacking StreamClan, Cougarsnarl and Viperstrike snuck into their camp and stole away four young apprentices.

"But these weren't just any BreezeClan apprentices. No, they were all siblings – one she-cat, three toms – and they were the younger brothers and sister of Hartfoot and Staghorn. Now, even though the Blood-Kin were vicious in battle, they still had close ties to their family and Clan. It's why they were inseparable in battle. Cougarsnarl and Viperstrike left a maze of false trails so that even with the best trackers in BreezeClan, there was no way to know who had taken the apprentices.

"Of course, they went straight to LightningClan first. But Cougarsnarl and Viperstrike were no fools, and they hadn't told any cat in the Clan what they were planning. They were hiding outside of the territories with the apprentices, who were too terrified to try and escape. After a few days of laying low, they returned to the Clan with their prize.

"LightningClan was proud of the warriors, of course, and they kept the apprentices hidden from the other Clans for almost two moons on the orders of Cougarsnarl and Viperstrike, whose plan was not yet complete. Eventually they lost their BreezeClan scent. Finally, the day came when the two LightningClan warriors could take their final revenge."

Yewberry paused here, gaze shifting past Foxtail, and she turned to see that LightningClan was streaming into the clearing. A white tom with odd-colored eyes caught her gaze briefly, and she shuddered slightly at the vaguely detached look in his wide eyes before he turned and slunk up to Hollyclaw, who received him with a warm nod. Behind them she noticed Thornpelt sitting with his back pointedly turned away from Badgerstep, who was between him and Foxtail.

When she looked back at the russet BreezeClan tom, he was nodding at some cat behind her before his gaze returned to her. "Sorry about that. Just greeting an old friend. Where were we?"

"LightningClan's final revenge?" Foxtail prompted.

"Ah, yes. Finally, the day came when the two LightningClan warriors could take their final revenge." Yewberry settled back into the place he'd been in the story with the ease of someone who had told a tale the same way dozens of times. "It had been raining for a few days, so the ground in the fields was mostly puddles and mud – the best time for LightningClan to fight, even then. They took the four apprentices with them to the battlefield, which was a chunk of territory that the two Clans had been fighting over for a long time, and smeared their pelts with mud.

"It was raining heavily when BreezeClan met LightningClan in battle there. Hartfoot and Staghorn were both there, ready to kill. Viperstrike and Cougarsnarl had chosen a group of strong warriors to stand guard around the four apprentices – not because they were afraid they would escape, but to make them look important. Important and weak.

"Hartfoot and Staghorn were never ones to pass up a target that seemed to be important to their enemy, so they charged straight past the warriors around the BreezeClan apprentices. Before the young cats could say something to dissuade their kin, the Blood-Kin's claws were already at their throats, killing them. Once the young cats were dead, the LightningClan cats pushed away from the BreezeClan warriors and the battlefield fell silent.

"For a long moment, the Blood-Kin stared down at the young cats as the rain washed the mud from their pelts. All was quiet as the realization hit them that they had killed their own younger siblings. Then, as one, Hartfoot and Staghorn turned and walked off of the battlefield side-by-side. Cougarsnarl and Viperstrike watched as the rest of BreezeClan's cats fled back to their own camp.

"Hartfoot and Staghorn weren't seen for an entire week after that, and BreezeClan didn't fight at all. At last, though, the Blood-Kin came into the camp. They were somber and quiet as they stood at the center of camp, waiting until their entire Clan surrounded them. And, as one, they said, 'We're going to become medicine cats.'

"It had been such a shock to them killing their own siblings just because they didn't look like themselves that they decided never to kill another cat. They also swore that they would never speak again, to atone for the heartless things they did together. Hartfoot left BreezeClan and joined LightningClan to try and make up for killing their medicine cat, while Staghorn remained in BreezeClan. They kept true to their word – they never fought another cat as long as they lived. And when they were both medicine cats, they never spoke another word to each other even at the half moon."

Yewberry finished the story abruptly, going quiet at the end. It looked as if all the energy had been drained out of him. Foxtail was struck silent as well, in awe of the story. Cats chattered all around them as they sat mute.

Finally, Yewberry meowed, "BreezeClan learned that day that if a battle led to grave injuries on either side, it was a battle better off lost. And that is why we run from battles, no matter who has the upper hand."

* * *

**Foxtail's perspective again, hooray! This story takes place about a moon before _Bitterness Changes_, so she still dislikes Thornpelt at this point. I decided that for this prompt I would give a little more background to the Great Famine, which occurred when Shroudstorm and Tornstar were alive, and more background to BreezeClan, who I feel that I've been neglecting a bit. Also, guess who made a cameo role in this story? That's right - creepy, creepy, horribly-written Flickershade!**

**Hope you enjoy it!**


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